


Theological Crisis

by nothingamonth



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Asgardian Liquor, Attempted Sexual Assault, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Porn With Plot, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sexual Humor, steve isn't a virgin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 10:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8746117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingamonth/pseuds/nothingamonth
Summary: For everyone else, Steve has been asleep for seventy years.  For Steve, WW2 ended forty days ago.  He's alone and lost in New York, until a giant fucking hammer flies through the wall of his office and lands on his balls.





	1. Chapter 1

Forty days out of the ice. Steve thought there was something vaguely biblical about it, but it was a day like the thirty-nine before it (except for the day that space aliens had ripped a hole in New York). Besides, his ideas about God and the afterlife had pretty much been blown out of the water. 

He was stretched out on the uncomfortable couch in his office, which was next to the gym. Someone was thumping around on the other side of the wall, but it faded into the background noise of his thoughts. He was used to a lot of noise. There weren’t industrial air conditioners to drone the city out when he was growing up.

Steve dropped a hand to the floor and groped blindly for the pile of files he knew was there. He had asked Fury for the personnel files on his new team, but he hadn’t had much of a chance to go through them yet. He flipped one open at random and found himself looking at Thor’s photo and list of physical attributes: 6’6”, 640 _pounds?!_ Good Lord, he was almost three times Steve’s weight and a hand taller! What did they _eat_ in Asgard?

A lot, apparently. Steve had seen Thor at meals. The future was a lot stranger than he could have imagined. He wondered what Bucky would have— 

Steve startled off of the couch when a hammer ( _and whose, possibly, could that be?_ ) burst through the wall of his office and came within an inch of braining him before it dropped harmlessly into his lap.

It wasn’t heavy, but he couldn’t move from underneath it, either. Nope, Mjolnir was planted firmly on his balls. If he wanted to keep them, he would have to wait for its owner.

Thor’s face popped into view through the new hole in his wall. His grin would have been infectious if Steve’s privates weren’t compromised. “My apologies, Steven. Just a moment.”

Like Steve was going anywhere. He waited until Thor left the gym and came around to his office door. It swung open and all six and a half feet of the other blond was standing there. He made _Steve_ feel small again. Thor approached and retrieved Mjolnir from his lap.

Steve realized he hadn’t said anything. He felt very much out of his element and kind of wished three in the afternoon were an acceptable bedtime. “N-No harm done,” he stammered. “I’ll just paint something new to hang on the wall.”

“You are an artist?” Thor asked, hefting his hammer before slipping it into a loop on his belt. He was standing uncomfortably close to Steve’s knees, and he was getting a cramp in his neck staring up at Thor’s face.

“That’s debatable. All these are mine,” Steve replied, indicating the paintings and sketches with a flourish of his hand. Thor finally took a step back to look closer, and Steve huffed out a breath.

“Who is this?” Thor asked, pointing to a charcoal sketch of Bucky he’d done right out of the ice, when his loss was still a gaping wound in his heart.

Who was he kidding? It still was.

“That’s—“ Well, how did he explain it to an Asgardian god? He furrowed his brows. Furthermore, _how much_ did he explain to an Asgardian god? Steve never explicitly said anything about Bucky to any of his new teammates, but he had paged through some of the books written about him and the Howling Commandos. The more recent ones conjectured (correctly) about the romantic nature of Steve and Bucky’s relationship, but it, like Bucky himself, seemed to be lost to history.

“Your lover?” Thor asked, grinning over his shoulder.

Steve’s mouth dropped open, and he felt his face burst into flame. “Once. He’s dead. Almost a century ago,” he said tersely.

The smile fell off Thor’s face. “My apologies again. He’s very—fine looking.”

“Was,” Steve corrected, flopping back onto his couch. He was done with today. Officially. He was going to go upstairs and take a long shower, draw the curtains, and sleep.

“You are very often alone,” Thor noted, still not gone for some reason. Steve turned his eyes on him. Thor’s eyes were blue, like the color of a summer sky, but not steel-blue. He went back to staring at the ceiling.

“It isn’t good. To be alone.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Steve replied.

“Come, let me apologize for the intrusion,” Thor said, grabbing Steve by the arm and hauling him to his feet. Steve made a sharp squawking sound. No one had manhandled him like this for ages. He felt like he was sixteen and puny again.

“Come, come, come,” the massive man urged, smiling again. He half-pulled and half-pushed Steve towards the elevators.

“Wait! Where are you taking me?” he asked, digging his heels in to no avail. Steve was summarily bundled into the elevator.

“My rooms,” Thor replied, pressing the button for one of the upper floors. Steve frowned up at him.

“Hey! I don’t know how you do things where you’re from, but here you don’t carry people off to your bedroom to apologize!”

Thor put his hands on his hips and bent at the waist so that they were at eye level. “I would not presume to show you to my bed without your permission. I sought only to offer you a drink.”

Steve chewed on the inside of his cheek as he folded his arms over his chest. “I can’t get drunk,” he replied, somewhat sullen. 

“You will feel this, my friend,” Thor replied, clapping him on the shoulder. Steve prided himself on not toppling over. They finally reached the penthouse floors, and Thor took his arm again like he would bolt for it at the first opportunity. Steve was only sort of dragged to the other’s rooms, where he was plopped onto a plush couch (much nicer than his) covered in furs. A moment later, a cup filled with dubious golden liquid was pushed into his hands. Thor sat down beside him with a glass of his own.

“Drink,” he said, lifting the bottom of Steve’s glass toward his mouth.

If it would get him out of here quicker, he would just drink it. Steve downed most of the glass in one go and hissed at the sweetness and the burn. His eyes actually watered. Thor pushed the glass to his lips again, and Steve finished it.

“That is—“

“Asgardian mead!” Thor said happily.

“—awful,” Steve finished.

Thor laughed. 

Steve had had enough. He put his hand on the back of the couch to push himself up. “Thank you for the drink. Please don’t worry about the wall,” he said, but as he got to his feet, he swayed. His face felt too hot and the floor rocked gently underneath him. “Whoa,” he mumbled, falling back on his ass.

“I told you that you would feel it!” Thor regarded him with obvious pride and pleasure.

Steve barely remembered what it felt like to be drunk, much less as wasted as he was. He had to close his eyes against the dizziness and resist clutching Thor’s arm when he patted his thigh.

“You do not talk about your lover,” he noted. Steve opened his eyes just far enough to look at the other man through his lashes.

“No. No, a hundred years ago, nobody talked about two men loving each other.”

“Why?” Thor asked, looking truly bewildered.

“Because. It’s—improper,” Steve replied. He was beginning to struggle with words.

“In what way?”

Steve tried hard to formulate an answer that would both make sense and satisfy Thor, but couldn’t. At first his eyes stung from frustration, but the more he thought about Bucky, about how he would have done things differently, how he never would have denied him for propriety’s sake, had he only known, they turned into real tears.

He hadn’t cried for Bucky. Be it forty days or seventy years, he hadn’t cried. It came bursting from him now, that grief. It bent him in half until he was sobbing into his knees. Steve felt a strong arm around his waist, pulling him in. There was another hand patting his head gently.

“There, there,” Thor soothed, awkwardly.

“I miss him,” Steve said between sobs. “I keep—thinking about what he would have said about—this or that. Everything here is strange. I would give _anything_ just to talk to him again.”

Thor continued to pat Steve on the head, giving him what was both an encouraging and sympathetic smile. It was, however, tinged with a bit of discomfort. “He was a warrior also?”

Steve shook his head. “No. They made him into one, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He died saving me.” 

“Then he is a hero,” Thor replied. He pulled Steve’s legs up onto the couch so that he was sitting astride the bigger man’s lap. Steve didn’t notice. He was just holding onto consciousness. His head settled into the crook of Thor’s neck, and his breath fell into step with the other’s. The world gave one last tiny spin, and Steve let go.

* * *

 

When Steve woke, it was dark and his eyes felt like sand. He knew he was in the Tower because he was looking out at the familiar skyline from the floor to ceiling windows. But it was a different angle. He wasn’t in his room.

He went to stretch but then stopped. The touch of fur against his bare skin had him shooting up to assess his situation, but the blinding pain behind his eyes knocked him back down. His little groan of pain roused the previously unnoticed body lying next to his, and Thor opened his eyes.

“Perhaps you should rest,” the god suggested. 

“Did you undress me?” Steve asked, lifting the fur covering his chest and groin. He was, indeed, quite naked. 

“You cannot rest in clothes,” Thor explained.

Steve glanced over and saw that the other was just as naked. But huge. Inhumanly large. The bed dipped noticeably where he lay.

“You shouldn’t have,” Steve muttered, turning his back to him. Even that much movement hurt.

“I saw nothing that I have not seen before,” the other rumbled.

“I don’t _care_ how many men you’ve seen naked; you haven’t seen _me._ I don’t like it. I’m a private person.”

“I am full of apologies today, Steven. It isn’t uncommon for men to bathe together in Asgard. I didn’t think.”

Steve grunted.

“I did not dislike what I saw,” Thor offered.

“That doesn’t help. I thought you had a dame, anyway.”

“Dame?”

“A girl. A woman,” Steve replied. He’d forgotten that was one of the words that he wasn’t supposed to use anymore. It had been a very long list.

“No, she—rejected my courtship.” Thor sounded both resigned and amused, as if he would heave a huge sigh any moment. Steve couldn’t help it; he rolled over to look at him with a crooked smile.

“Why? What does Asgardian courtship look like?” he teased.

Something flashed in Thor’s eyes briefly as he reached between their bodies to take Steve’s hand. He was bemused to note how thin and frail his fingers looked in the larger man’s, but he abruptly stopped thinking when Thor kissed the back of his knuckles.

“I would show you,” he said. Steve didn’t know it was possible, but Thor’s voice dropped another octave.

“Funny joke.” Steve’s voice trembled as he pulled his hand free. Thor let him go.

“It is no joke,” he said. “You are brilliant, honorable, brave, and beautiful. I would be a fool not to offer.”

Steve’s nervous laughter made him cringe. Despite the feeling his brain was oozing out of his ears, he rolled out of the bed, taking the fur with him. As he wrapped it around his waist, he realized he left Thor bare and _Holy Mother of God there was no way he was letting that man fuck him._

He knew he was blushing, and he knew Thor was preening, but he managed to stammer, “I-I gotta go. Like I said, don’t worry about the wall.” And he bolted.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve slept the rest of his hangover off in his own room. And if he was feeling better by sunrise but stayed in bed until noon, it was no one’s business but his own. When he finally picked himself up, showered, shaved, and dressed, it was almost late in the day. He was surprised when he walked by one of the conference rooms that Tony was already awake. Even more when the engineer called out to him as he passed.

“Hey, Capsicle! Come here a minute!”

The blond stuck his head into the conference room. There was a holographic screen showing a view of one of the hallways. His confusion must have shown on his face, because Tony looked like he was about to explode with smug satisfaction.

“JARVIS, play back the footage!” Tony said with a flourish, and the screen moved. A second passed and there was Steve, dashing from the bottom of the frame wrapped in Thor’s fur to the elevators. The view shifted to the inside of the elevator, and Steve watched himself cradle his head in one hand while holding the meager draping with the other.

If the building would just collapse under his feet, that would be great.

“Did you get ravished by a Norse god? Who looks like he stepped off the cover of a Harlequin novel?” Tony cradled his chin in his hands. 

Steve finally found his voice. “No! I—He gave me a drink. It was—strong.”

“So more of a hook up than a ravishing,” Tony surmised, looking more pleased by the moment.

“No! No one—did that! I passed out. Then I couldn’t find my clothes. It’s really none of your business, Tony,” Steve snapped.

“You’re right. Who am I to stop you from getting laid? What’s it been, seventy, eighty years?”

“For me, it’s been about two months,” Steve snapped, lifting his eyes. Tony must have seen something there that made him relent.

“Alright, alright. I was just messing with you. Jeez. I’d be happy if you were getting some. I’m not a monster.”

With one last glare, Steve backed out of the conference room. He turned on his heel and slammed right into someone’s chest ( _and who else could possibly be this sturdy?_ ).

Thor grasped his shoulders and nearly lifting him off his feet. “Steven! I hope the effects of the mead have worn off.” 

“Um, yes,” Steve replied, desperately trying to dodge him.

“I would speak to you more about courtship,” Thor said, taking his hand. The smaller blond wondered if he could chew it off as Tony started to cackle behind him.

 _He only just died!_ he wanted to shout, but instead, he took a deep breath and counted to ten. “Not here,” he finally said. “I’m starving. I want to eat.” 

“I’ll accompany you,” Thor said happily, dragging Steve along. He tossed a pleading look back at Tony, who just waved at him. The bastard.

“Tell me about courtship here, Steven,” the god said, all but throwing him into a chair in the break room. He started pulling various leftovers from the fridge, and Steve wondered if he honestly planned on cooking for him.

“I don’t really know,” he replied, watching Thor with vague amusement. “When I was a young man, you took a girl out dancing a few times, maybe necked with her a bit. Eventually you’d give her some kind of token of your affection. If things went okay, you’d get married and pop out kids.” 

Thor had a box of Chinese food and was pondering the microwave. “I didn’t ask about courting women. I asked how you would woo a man,” he replied, sparing Steve a grin before shoving the container into the microwave. He fumbled with the buttons until it hummed to life.

“I didn’t. It wasn’t done,” Steve replied.

“Tell me about Bucky. How did you woo him?”

Steve’s stomach turned, and he stared down at his hands. “It was the other way around. We had been friends since were kids. When we were teenagers, he just swept me off my feet. Literally.” He smiled darkly.

Thor dropped the steaming container in front of him, breaking him out of his memory. Steve thanked him and started to eat. The other sat across from him to watch. It was a little disconcerting, but familiar. Bucky used to do the same thing when Steve was sick or being stubborn. “You don’t have to feed me,” Steve said softly.

“I want to,” Thor replied, grinning at him. Steve dropped his eyes. That, too, was familiar. He sighed and went back to his meal. “And what about where you’re from?” he asked.

Thor leaned back in his chair, which groaned underneath him. “First, we wind a braided cord around our intended’s testicles to indicate that he’s taken—“

“ _What_?”

The larger blond laughed, the sound filling the room. “I was teasing you, Steven. You seem to be embarrassed by nudity, although you certainly have no reason to be. In Asgard, we impress each other with acts of bravery—which I believe has already been accomplished—and then tokens are exchanged.” Thor pulled a heavy ring off of his finger and handed it to Steve. It looked like it would scarcely fit his thumb. Steve looked down at it warily.

“Please, accept it. Nothing proceeds until you give me something of yours,” Thor explained.

Still, Steve didn’t take it. It was wrong to even entertain the idea with Bucky so fresh in his memory. But God, he was lonely. He reached out for the ring, but drew his fingers back.

“Please, Steven. You’re beginning to wound me.”

Steve sighed through his nose and took the ring. It slipped easily over the joint in his thumb and weighed heavily against his palm. “I’ll consider it,” he finally said. “Thank you for cooking.” He got up and dropped the container in the trash. As he went to leave, Thor grabbed his wrist and reeled him in, so that he was standing between the other man’s knees. Now Thor looked up at him, but Steve still felt about two feet tall. 

Thor pressed his lips to Steve’s palm and looked into his eyes. A shiver went through him, but he didn’t pull away. In fact, he wanted to lean into Thor and let him envelope him in those strong, bare arms.

“May I kiss you?” Thor asked.

“Sure,” Steve replied, unthinking. The larger blond grinned at him again, an almost childishly happy grin. He slipped his other hand to the back of Steve’s neck and pulled him down. Their lips met, a simple, chaste touch. Steve had never been kissed by anyone but Bucky, not like this. His lips parted of their own accord, and Thor’s tongue darted between them once, twice, and then he retreated.

“You are welcome in my rooms. I will let JARVIS know to expect you,” he said.

“Presumptuous,” Steve sighed, licking his lips. Thor tasted like the mead they drank last night.

“Always,” Thor smirked. His eyes lingered on Steve’s lips before releasing him altogether. The smaller man hooked one finger around a strand of the other’s long hair, his brows furrowed. He liked the look of him; he couldn’t deny it. He liked his confidence and guileless sense of humor. But he wasn’t Bucky. Steve slipped away from him with sad eyes and retreated back to his rooms.

It was a long night. He had visitors, but JARVIS turned them away. Steve lay on his side in his bed, covers drawn up. He didn’t know how long he stayed there. The sun came up and went down again. He had responsibilities, he knew, but he didn’t care. Grief had paralyzed him. Guilt had him torn in two.

If Bucky were here, he would tell him to get off of his lazy ass and do something. He probably wouldn’t even begrudge him a little thrill with Thor, seeing as he was dead. Eventually, the Bucky of his imagination nagged him out of bed and into the shower, through dinner and down the hall to Thor’s room. The door opened for him before he had a chance to knock.

He found Thor reclining on his couch, toying with one of Tony’s tablets. He looked up when Steve came in and set the toy aside. “Steven?” he asked. He frowned and opened his arms to him, and Steve fell into them.

“I don’t want to give you anything. Not yet. But my body doesn’t count, right?”

“Not in courting rituals,” Thor chuckled.

“I don’t want to sleep alone,” Steve replied. “I haven’t felt good in such a long, long time.” Thor stroked his hair thoughtfully before standing with Steve in his arms.

“I’m honored that you came to me. I will do my best.” He carried him into the bedroom and laid him down. Steve let him. His stomach was churning, and not in desire. He was scared. He’d only ever slept with one man. One _normal_ sized man. Thor pulled his shirt over his head and stepped out of his jeans. Steve looked him up and down and swallowed audibly.

“You’re scared,” Thor noted.

“Yes. You’re very—big,” Steve replied, glancing down pointedly.

“You are the peak of man’s perfection. There is no more suitable lover for a god.” Thor’s eyes were dark as he reached for Steve’s clothes.

“You sound like your brother,” he choked out as his shirt and trousers landed somewhere on the floor, leaving Steve in just his boxers. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a flicker of electricity arc across Thor’s shoulder blades.

“Do I?” he asked, and from the slant of his golden brows, Steve knew he had said the wrong thing.

“No offense,” Steve added. His heart was hammering in his chest. Thor rested his hand against his chest to feel it. “You terrify me,” Steve explained.

“I would never hurt you, sweetling,” Thor murmured, running his lips along Steve’s jaw. His beard scratched his skin and sent a jolt straight to his cock. He moaned and lifted his hands to Thor’s back. Thor skimmed Steve’s nipple with his thumb as he kissed his way down his neck.

“I don’t know if I’m more scared that you’ll crush me, tear me in two, or electrocute me,” Steve sighed, moving to cup the other’s cheek so he could kiss him.

“Do you not have lubricant here?” Thor asked against his lips. Steve laughed. He ducked his head slightly and wrapped his hand around the other man’s half-hard cock. Thor sucked his breath in through his teeth. 

“Yes, but I’ve never had something this size between my legs.”

“You will stretch,” Thor replied. His fingers found his hole through the thin fabric of Steve’s boxers. He bit back a cry through gritted teeth.

Thor pulled Steve’s boxers down and tossed them away before smashing his lips against the other man’s. Steve tangled his fingers in golden chest hair, making low, keening sounds into Thor’s mouth. The world spun on its axis and Steve was suddenly on top of a broad chest, straddling a warm abdomen. A thick cock rubbed against his backside. Thor parted his cheeks to make the friction more intimate. Steve arched his back, bracing himself with his hands on Thor’s chest.

“Oh God,” he moaned.

“Yes,” Thor agreed. His fingers walked up Steve’s chest, and it took the smaller blond a moment to realize he was tracing his blush. “You look beautiful.”

“So do you. But you know it,” Steve laughed (a bit too breathlessly). A fine sheen of sweat covered his skin. Besides his throbbing erection, Thor seemed largely unaffected. In fact, he shrugged. 

“What can I do to make you feel good, Steven?” he asked.

“Fuck me. Gently,” Steve replied, flattening Thor’s hand against his chest. “Please.”

“Of course."

Steve was flipped onto his back once again, and Thor’s hands and mouth were suddenly everywhere at once, but it wasn’t rough—just intense. Steve melted underneath him. The feeling of furs underneath him and the heavy weight of Thor’s body on top of him had him reeling. It had been so long since he’d come, from his own hand or otherwise. He didn’t know if he would remember how.

Thor’s face was buried in his neck as he reached for something above Steve’s head. A bottle was uncorked and something spicy and fragrant filled the room. He wondered what had happened to Vaseline. The smell of petroleum jelly still made his cock twitch.

Their eyes met. Thor kissed him again and pressed slick fingers against his entrance. Steve broke the kiss, gasping. For a moment or two, they shared breath and then Thor pushed a digit inside him. Steve arched his back, using his weight to slide a little further down on his finger. He groped blindly until he found Thor’s cock and squeezed gently. 

The larger man grunted. “I should not have expected you to be a docile lover.”

“No,” Steve agreed with a laugh. Thor shut him up with another finger. It felt like he had a cock inside him already, the man’s hands were so large.

“You are—exceedingly tight,” Thor sighed. His voice was starting to break. It was oddly satisfying for Steve, who felt like he was being split in half.

“Think about how good you’ll feel inside me.” He swiped his thumb over the head of Thor’s cock.

Thor actually growled against his neck. He scissored his fingers apart and turned his wrist. Steve bit his shoulder. Thor crooked his fingers and rubbed against his hot spot as though he already knew where it was. Steve tasted blood in his mouth and let go. “Sorry, sorry,” he panted.

Thor grinned at him. “No worries. I’m happy to carry your mark.” He started to fuck him with his fingers, a slow, delicious slide that brushed that spot over and over. To say that he hardly noticed that Thor added another finger was a lie, but he didn’t mind as much.

“Are you ready?” Thor asked him, and Steve, beyond words, could only nod. Thor pulled back and arranged Steve’s thighs over his own. That same smell filled the room when he slicked his own flesh, and Steve whimpered when he felt the head of Thor’s cock against his ass, mentally preparing himself for what came next. 

_Bucky, is this what you would have wanted? Could you ever have imagined your Steve Rogers like this?_

The tears in his eyes were easily explained away when Thor finally breached him. The larger man’s head fell back. “Ah, sweetling,” he groaned, sliding into him inch by delicious inch. Steve tore at the furs underneath him, his thighs trembling around Thor’s waist. He had to be hurting him, but he didn’t care. The pain, the burn, the feeling of being exceedingly _full_ was too much. His brain effectively short-circuited.

Later, Steve would have some recollection of Thor pinning his arms above his head as he pistoned in and out of him, of feeling him erupt inside of him, of coming torrents himself, but like the radius of a bomb blast, the closer to the epicenter, the less was there.

Thor fucked him absolutely stupid, and he hated himself for it.

His next clearest memory was the other man sliding into the bath with him. His chest and shoulders were covered in scratches and a nasty bite ( _no wonder he held my arms down_ ), but Steve had trouble feeling bad when he felt so fucked out and loose.

Thor took his hand out of the water and kissed his palm. Steve was beginning to wonder what that gesture meant; Thor seemed to do it a lot.

“You seem quiet. Now,” Thor teased, lifting one of his brows. Steve huffed out an irritated sigh and glared at him. Bucky could always tease him, but that was built on decades of love and trust. He’d known Thor for about a month.

The blond giant lifted his hands in defeat and leaned back in the water. Steve rested his head against the wall of the tub. He hated taking baths. He hated large bodies of water and being submerged, even if the water was warm. “I should have died in the water,” he muttered.

“Steven.”

“When the plane went down. I could have tried harder to make a safe landing, but I didn’t want to. I was ready to go. And then I wake up _here_ , and nothing makes sense anymore. There’s aliens and Norse gods and who knows what else…”

“Steven.”

But Steve was already climbing to his feet. The water was making his chest feel tight. He didn’t count on how wobbly his legs still were, or how slick marble could be when wet. His feet slid out from underneath him, and his head cracked against the tile floor before Thor could grab him.


	3. Chapter 3

He woke up in the infirmary with a bright light shining in his face and Bruce clucking over his head. His sense of self-preservation told him _DON’T PANIC_ just moments before lashing out.

“Dr. Banner?” he asked. His tongue felt thick and fuzzy, which meant they had tried to medicate him.

“Don’t move. I’m stitching a head wound. Are you in any pain?” the soft-spoken doctor asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Thor brought you here. Naked as a jay. He took time to put you into clothes though. Unless you were dressed in his clothes before you fell.” Bruce’s voice was almost inflectionless, like he wasn’t really paying attention to Steve at all.

Steve closed his eyes in embarrassment.

“Well, you can still blush. Must be a good sign. Tell me, are you depressed?”

“No.”

“He told me that your lover died during the war. And before you fell, you were talking about dying.”

“Christ, can’t anyone keep anything to themselves anymore?”

“It’s important, Captain.”

“Are we about done?”

“Almost. You have a concussion. You can’t be alone tonight. I assume you’re staying with Thor, though.”

As soon as Bruce let him up, Steve was limping out of the infirmary with one hand holding up Thor’s jeans. He found the man (dressed now) in the hallway outside. Steve knew he had a bad temper, but that didn’t stop him from losing it. Thor went to cup his face to inspect the stitches, but Steve knocked his hands away.

“You told him about _Bucky_?” he hissed.

Thor scowled at him. “Yes. I didn’t realize someone you love was a shameful secret,” he replied. 

Steve socked him in the jaw and didn’t pull his punch. The other man’s head snapped to the side, but Steve was pretty sure that he broke a bone in his hand. He wrenched the ring off his thumb and shoved it into Thor’s chest.

“I’ll return the rest of your clothes in the morning,” he snarled, storming off. He only careened off the wall once. 

Bruce stuck his head out of the infirmary, taking in Thor’s lost and confused expression. “He can’t be alone tonight,” he said.

“Perhaps I’m not the one to stay with him,” Thor said softly. He studied something in his hand.

“No one else can get close to him. You’re it so far, big guy. I’ll tell JARVIS to override the security protocol for Captain Rogers’s room so you can get in. Don’t let him sleep for the next three or four hours.”

Thor sighed. “As you wish.” And he followed in Steve’s wake.

Steve was sitting on his couch when Thor came in. “Get out,” he said immediately. But Thor was bigger and stronger and not terribly afraid, especially considering the way Steve was cradling his hand and letting big, fat tears fall from his eyes. He sat down beside him and thumbed on the TV. The sounds of the ancient sitcom blaring from the speakers drowned out the sounds of Steve’s quiet sobs.

After what seemed like a long, long time, Steve rested his head against Thor’s shoulder. His breath hitched a few times before he settled. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. 

Thor took Steve’s hand and put the ring back on his thumb. “No worries,” he replied.

“I broke my hand,” he whined.

“I heard it.” 

They watched television for the next several hours, as Steve was familiar with the protocol when it came to concussions. Around dawn, he let Thor help him into bed and invited him to stay. 

He did.

* * *

Summer dwindled into fall, bringing an end to Steve’s favorite time of year, the time of year that made him the most nostalgic for Coney Island and the beach and the smell of hot garbage from Brooklyn dumpsters. The cool snap in the air, the scent of rain and rotting leaves, made him think about Bucky less. He spent most of the autumns and winters of his youth cooped up inside. His clearest memories of Bucky in the cold were during the war.

It was the middle of the night when Steve was awoken to gentle but insistent kisses. He flopped onto his back in the middle of Thor’s bed, rubbing his eyes when the other man pulled away. “What? What is it?” he asked, his voice roughened with sleep. He didn’t always stay the night here, as he had a need for both privacy and solitude, but he spent more nights in Thor’s bed than his own.

He wore the ring, but hadn’t returned the favor with anything of his own.

Thor pulled him into his arms; he was wearing armor, which bit into the bare skin of Steve’s chest. “Where are you going? Was there a call?” he asked.

“I have to go home,” Thor replied, capturing Steve’s lips again.

“Home?”

“For a little while, sweetling. My father summoned me. Will you be fine without me?”

“Of course, but—I’ll miss you.” Steve wrapped his arms around the other’s neck and pressed his forehead to Thor’s. It was the closest thing to spoken sentiment that had passed between them.

“And I you. You will take care of yourself.”

“Yes,” Steve replied, smiling as he slotted their lips together. “Can’t you stay a moment longer?”

The other man paused a beat. “Do you think we can be hasty?” Thor asked.

“So hasty,” he smirked, tugging on his breastplate before dropping his hand lower, palming the front of his breeches. “Don’t even have to take off your armor.”

Thor groaned and tumbled back onto the bed. 

Later, Steve pulled the edges of his cardigan close around his chest as he hurried back to the Tower from the café with a tray of coffees. He was in a pleasant mood, just enjoying the weather and the fact that for once his teammates trusted him to bring back refreshments. He had a habit of getting frustrated and ordering everyone black coffee, but today they had made him write their complicated orders down. He was feeling pretty confident.

Steve carefully weaved his huge frame through the crowded Manhattan sidewalks until someone deliberately cut him off: a man in a dark leather jacket with his hair bound in a knot at the back of his head. He’d changed, but those winter-blue eyes were the exact same, crinkling at the corners as he smiled up at Steve.

“Buck?” he asked in a tremulous voice.

“Hey, doll. I’m home.”

Steve’s second concussion that year involved a lot more second-degree burns.

* * *

No infirmary this time. Steve was someplace cold and damp. He sat up, rubbing his aching head, and found himself on the soft wooden floor of what had to be an abandoned tenement. It took all of ten seconds for his brain to remember: _Bucky!_

Steve spun around looking for him, and finally remembered to breathe when he found him in the corner, knees drawn up to his chest, chin resting on top of them.

“Bucky?” Steve whispered. His eyes swam with tears before he blinked them away.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked softly. That should have been the first warning bell. If Bucky had thought Steve was really hurt, he would have been at his side in an instant.

“I—yeah. What are you doing here? _How_ are you here?”

“I don’t even know!” he replied, rolling onto his knees. His hands were spread wide, and Steve looked slowly from them to Bucky’s face. “I just came to in Brooklyn. Big fuckin’ shock, right?”

Steve looked back down at his hands. Something was wrong.

“Steve, you all right there, pal?” Bucky asked, finally reaching out to put his hand on Steve’s ankle. The blond gasped in his breath, kicked his hand away, and pushed himself back against the wall.

“What’s wrong? Hit your head too hard? It’s really me!”

“Your palm. One day at the docks, you got distracted when one of my sketches blew into the water, and you let go of the rope you were holding. When the crate on the other end fell, you went to grab it and tore the shit out of your palm. Had a huge scar there until the day you died. You’re not Bucky. Who are you?” Steve hissed.

Bucky’s eyes went flat for a moment before he grinned in malicious glee. He waved his other hand over his face, and suddenly it was Loki, Thor’s supposedly locked-up brother. But the hand dropped and Bucky was back.

“Sometimes the illusion is imperfect,” Bucky said in Loki’s posh accent. He lifted his right hand and the silvered scar appeared. “You haven’t thought about the scar in some time.” 

Steve flinched, because it felt like an accusation. “ _Why?_ ” he asked. He hated how his voice trembled.

“I’ve been known to take interest in my brother’s—hobbies,” Bucky— _Loki_ replied, raking his eyes emphatically down Steve’s body. The blond shifted further away. He should have gotten up and left, kicked Loki’s ass, _something_ , but he couldn’t stop staring.

“You can drop the act,” Steve growled, gesturing vaguely to Loki’s face. The brunet merely tilted his head to the side and showed him that crooked grin that was so heartbreaking familiar.

“But I love how it throws your thoughts into _chaos_ , Stevie,” he replied, mimicking Bucky’s Brooklyn accent.

“Don’t. Stop that,” Steve said, weakly shaking his head. Loki crept across the floor in Bucky’s body like a cat, coming to stop about two feet from the other’s hip. He reached out, took Steve’s wrist, and kissed his palm. Steve stared down at him in horror, tears sliding down his cheeks. 

“Did he tell you what that means?” Loki asked. Steve had never seen Bucky’s eyes look so flat and cold, like an Arctic winter.

“Apparently not. It means _I am at your service_. A very powerful statement coming from my brother. He must think a great deal of you, babydoll.”

“Stop it!” Steve screamed. He went to get up, but Loki held his wrist fast, jerking him down. 

“I have poured through your memories. Tell me, which version of your dead lover do you prefer? I can assume any of them.” Bucky from right before he died took the other’s place, grabbing Steve’s knees and wrenching them apart. Then Bucky from after Azzano, thin, pale, and sick, slithered between his legs. Bucky, in his neatly pressed uniform, smelling of pomade, kissed him. Bucky in a sweaty undershirt, high-waisted trousers, and broken suspenders pulled back to look at him. 

“Ah, this one, I think.” Loki captured Steve’s other wrist and transferred his hold on it to the other hand. When both of Steve’s hands were pinioned above his head, Loki started to undress him.

 _No, no, no no no nononono, this can’t be happening! Why? Because Thor had me first?_ He squeezed his eyes closed, so at least he didn’t have to see Bucky’s face. It was bad enough having his scent in his nose, still slightly briny from the docks.

“You’re not going to try to fight me?” Loki asked. Steve pulled his lips back from his teeth and made a high, keening noise. He tried wrenching his hands free, but Loki was probably as strong as him on a good day. And he was still concussed.

“What a pretty cock,” Loki laughed. His fingers brushed over his length. Steve didn’t realize Loki had gotten that far.  

“Well, all of you is pretty. It’s easy to see why Thor loves you.”

“Stop! Kill me, but don’t do _this! Not wearing his face!_ ” Steve cried. He was very much on the brink of losing his mind. He started to struggle frantically, and then he was screaming.

There were hands on his lips suddenly, trying to shush him. “Shh! Shut up! Shut up!” Loki’s face appeared over the top of his hand. And then Loki was off him and flying through a wall. Steve had the presence of mind to stop screaming and push himself into a corner.

And then he was alone, and the cold air was rushing into the building. He didn’t bother readjusting his clothing, he just wrapped his arms around his knees the way Bucky—no, _Loki_ had earlier.

“—Steven!”

Some minutes later, he refocused his gaze on the figure in front of him. It took him a second before he recognized Thor. And another before his brain could produce speech. “What?”

“Steven,” Thor said again, trying to extricate Steve from the corner.

“Please. Please, don’t touch me,” he whispered. “Please. Please.”

“Can you stand?” he prodded, pulling on his legs. “You’re safe now. The other Avengers have my brother—“

“Leave!” Steve bellowed. Thor startled back, and then he held his hands up.

“I will wait outside,” he told him, turning his back on the other man with a flourish of his cape. When he was gone, Steve pushed himself to his feet. He wavered, fell against the wall, and used it as a crutch to go to the hole in the building. He did up his jeans and wrapped his shirt and sweater more closely around him.

Five stories down below, there was a lot of commotion. He could make out the Hulk and not a lot else. Steve stumbled back from the wreckage when Tony in his suit flew up to his eye level. The other man flipped his visor up, but Steve stared through him.

“Capsicle?”

Steve’s eyes tracked a bird’s flight through the sky. 

“Uh, Cap?”

It landed on a nearby building. 

“Steve?” 

He finally turned to look at Tony. “What?” 

“Do you want me to take you down?” Tony asked, offering him a hand. Steve turned his head to look over his shoulder, where Thor was waiting. His arms were folded over his chest, his shoulders practically hunched around his ears. Steve turned back and offered Tony his hand. The cold fingers of his suit closed around his forearm and pulled him down.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout at me on tumblr: stuckypuddles.tumblr.com


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